Fight Dawn
by Pollyanna Huffington
Summary: I am Dawn's raging bile duct. I am Dawn's smirking revenge.


Title: Fight Dawn  
Author: Pollyanna Huffington  
Spoilers: All of them.  
Rating: PG  
  
  
FIGHT DAWN  
  
Buffy takes me to the magic shop with her friends, then Buffy's shoving me against the wall and asking, "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!?!?!", like I haven't known her since birth. She's like that; always screaming or crying or acting like every stupid thing I do is the end of the stupid world. I type all her dialogue in all caps cause she's annoying. She slams me, she hurts my arm. "THE FIRST RULE OF BEING A SLAYER'S SISTER IS YOU DO NOT INVITE HARMONY GODDAMN KENDALL INTO THIS HOUSE!" she says. She's babbling. She's insane. "YOU BREAK IT YOU BUY IT!" I have no idea.  
  
The end of the world, the demons, the plural of apocalypse-- this is all really about Xander Harris.  
  
I know this because Buffy Summers knows this.  
  
* * *  
  
Principal Synder's arms are wrapped around me, his bald pate shining, big the way we think of Quark's ears as big. He pats my head. "The good Summers child," he says. I am eleven years old. This is parent-teacher night, I am forced to tag along with Mom. Synder has too much testosterone and it has caused him to go bald. I know this because Buffy knows this. One of the adults shows up drunk, he is one of Xander's relatives, drunk and crazy and wall-eyed he blabbles at me, "You ain't no real girl! You ain't! Get thee behind me, and I'd like a large order of fries with that!" Xander turns eight shades of red.  
  
I say, Xander, look at me. Xander, I still like you :) See my smiley emoticons? Xander, darling of my heart, my goofy, gorgeous man. You're not a buttmonkey.  
  
He doesn't listen. He can't see me. He practially kneels before Buffy-- asks her, will she go with him to the dance, will she wear this grotty bracelet he bought her, will she come visit him and wear a trenchcoat with nothing on underneath.  
  
Buffy whispers to me, "I think another man in our lives is the last thing we need."  
  
Then the vampires come.  
  
One of them is named Spike. Killed two Slayers. Parent-teacher night, he strolls about the school singing "Somebody's in the ceiling."  
  
I know this because Buffy Summers knows this.  
  
* * *  
  
Buffy takes them on once a week. In the basement of Willy's bar they line up. Fangs and fists and blood, the smell of blood, the taste of it, there's this tooth permanently loose in Buffy's mouth now and it bleeds sometimes.  
  
"IF THIS IS YOUR FIRST NIGHT YOU HAVE TO FIGHT ME AND/OR DATE ME. HELLO VAMPIRES."  
  
Buffy takes this one vamp, this young and gorgeous N*Sync type, batters his face, bashes in his nose.  
  
Why, Buffy? I say. Did you just want to destroy something beautiful? Or did the young vamp symbolize Angel in your mind?  
  
"NO, I JUST HATE NSYNC, WAH WAH WAH, I AM ALL ANGSTY AND HAVE TO LISTEN TO GOTH MUSIC, WOO WOO MY LIFE IS SO MAUDLIN THEY SHOULD BASE A TV SERIES ON IT, WAH WAH."  
  
* * *  
  
I ask Buffy, If you could fight anyone, who would you fight?  
  
She thinks about it. "PROBABLY OUR FATHER. I HAVE SO MUCH RESENTMENT BUILT UP INSIDE ME ABOUT HIM. THE WAY HE LEFT US AND EVERYTHING. I THINK THAT IS WHY I AM DRAWN TO FIGHTING IN GENERAL AND ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS WITH GUYS LIKE ANGELUS. ALSO, I THOUGHT *THE MATRIX* WAS AN INCREDIBLY STUPID MOVIE."  
  
Etc, etc, etc.  
  
But it doesn't explain her smell.  
  
* * *  
  
Xander is at home, listening to the music of pain, country music. He calls and I hear him talking to Buffy-- he's overdosed and he wants her to stay on the phone with him while he dies. "I mean it this time, too," he says. I rush over there, help him up, keep him awake all night long. Xander tells me his worst fear is growing up to be just like his father. Xander wants Buffy more than he wants Cordy, deep down. I know this cause Buffy Summers knows this. Buffy Summers knows this cause one time she got attacked by some icky thing or other and could read minds for a while. If you could read Buffy's mind it'd go Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel Angel. She's so retarded.  
  
* * *  
  
We have to make holy water. Buffy, I say, we have to make holy water so I can be safe from the vampires when I am going to school. We go down to the river behind the medical waste dumpster and we fill a tub with water and then we go to Barnes and Noble and buy a Bible and we drink some cappucino. I prefer French Vanilla. Buffy grabs my hand and pours some steaming hot coffee on it and I cry and she says "YOU HAVE TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT MOM DOES NOT LOVE YOU, THAT MOM DID NOT WANT YOU, THAT YOU ARE A MISTAKE."  
  
I say, Screw you, you crazy bitch!  
  
"YOU ARE NOT THE TRAPPER KEEPER YOU CARRY. YOU ARE NOT THE BRITNEY SPEARS ALBUM YOU LISTEN TO CONSTANTLY. YOU ARE NOT THE DESIGNER JEANS YOU WEAR. WHICH YOU STOLE FROM ME. AND I WANT BACK. YOU ARE NOT A UNIQUE AND BEAUTIFUL SNOWFLAKE. YOU ARE NOT EVEN MY SISTER."  
  
I say, What the hell is your problem?  
  
* * *  
  
This is my life. Good to the last drop.  
  
* * *  
  
We're standing in some crappy old castle, Buffy's got a sword poked through Angel. Angel says, "Oooooo aaaaa eeeee." With a sword poking through your midsection you can only talk in vowels. Angel stares at it and wonders exactly how clean this sword is. In three seconds the whole world gets sucked into hell. Then suddenly Angel gets sucked in instead, the hell-portal closes, crisis averted.  
  
The next day, Xander and the others gather, wait for Buffy. Flash of a single frame of film spliced into the scene: a frame of a stake, a wooden stake, big, pink, phallic.  
  
Cut to: Buffy, on a bus. Angle on: the window, the outside; NOW LEAVING SUNNYDALE. She will not return soon.  
  
I know this because Buffy Summers knows this.  
  
  
  
  
--copyright (c) 2000 by Pollyanna Huffington. Except the characters and what-not which were borrowed from Joss Whedon, and flat-out stolen from Chuck Palahniuk. Or vice versa. 


End file.
